


Lost

by Gellsbells



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Elders are kinda dicks, F/M, Gen, Harry pov, Slight macy/harry, spoilers for 1x16, spoilers for 1x17 promo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 11:42:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18234407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gellsbells/pseuds/Gellsbells
Summary: A short drabble, based on the promo for 1x17 where Harry has his 'punishment' delivered by the Elders.





	Lost

He expects it to hurt more than it does. A dull ache where a blind searing pain should be. 

 

Perhaps this is what he deserves. He let his guard down. Again. 

 

His skin tingles as the magic leaves his body, and his vision blurs. At first he thinks perhaps it is a side effect. A mere symptom of losing one’s magic. Until a painful, ache shoots through his back, followed by his knees and he falls to the ground. 

 

His breath comes in shallow, rasped breaths. 

 

Human. 

 

With his magical life force extracted as his punishment the cruel ravages of age wreak havoc on his body. His eyesight cloudy, his bones creaking under his skin, he tries to hoist himself up and finds himself unable. 

 

And as the last remnants of his power leaves his body, there is a blinding light and the sensation of falling. 

 

Isn’t this what he had always hoped for, to be free, to be human. No longer a tool being controlled by outside forces, greater than himself. 

 

He feels the ground solid beneath him, the wood grain, rough, underneath his fingers as he tries again to push himself up, before resigning himself to laying back down and accepting his fate. 

 

He can only imagine that the Elders have returned him to the Vera attic, so that the Charmed ones can bear witness to their justice. So that they can learn the consequences of straying from one’s purpose. 

 

A scream reaches his ears, duller and more far away than it should be. He manages to crane his neck to look in the direction of the noise. He can make out a shadow by the door, hands raised to her face as she backs away. 

 

From him. He can only imagine the sight that she faces. 

 

Macy. 

 

He can see her reaching for something near her, snapping it to her hand, before raising it above her head as she approaches him. Slowly, cautiously. 

 

“Macy,” he manages, his voice cracking, even his vocal cords feel stiff and tired. 

 

She hesitates, in what he can only hope is a moment of recognition. 

 

“Macy,” he repeats, managing further command over his voice, despite how unfamiliar it sounds even to him. 

 

Her eyes meet his, and despite the shadows at the edge of his vision he sees recognition flash across her face. 

 

“Harry?” 

 

As she says his name he allows himself to rest against the floor again, a welcome relief on his tired bones. The object drops from her hand, hitting the floor with a clatter, as she moves to him. 

 

Dropping to her knees, her hand resting on his arm as her eyes move rapidly over his unfamiliar form. 

 

“What?” Her arm moves under him, using her strength to pull him up from the ground and together they move, slowly, to the closest chair in the attic. She moves him gently down onto the soft cushions and they feel something akin to heaven. 

 

She pushes back the hair from his forehead, that that is left anyway, to examine him closely, “What happened? Did they?”

 

“I failed Macy. You, your sisters, the Elders.” He knew the relationship was wrong, from the start, and yet he had allowed himself to fall into familiar patterns for his own self interest. Or perhaps, to distract him from something else. Feelings that he pushed down, as far as they would go, left only to haunt his nights and dreams. “I allowed my personal feelings to cloud my judgement. To make me blind to what was right in front of me.” 

 

A tightness seizes his chest and he coughs into his hand, a burning sensation that travels from his lungs to his throat. 

 

“No Harry, what Charity did, was her choice. Her blame.” She knelt on her knees in front of him. Taking his hand in her own, the soft touch of her skin against the fragility of his own, a stark contrast. 

 

“This,” he can hear the restraint in her voice, “isn’t fair.”

 

“They will send someone else Macy. Someone who will look after you. All of you.” He allows himself to sink further into the chair. The tightness in his chest returning as even speaking takes it’s toll. 

 

“No,” the power in her voice, stuns him for a moment. “They won’t be sending anyone else. They will be fixing this.” She rises from her knees and pulls out her phone, her fingers flying over it. “Mel and Maggie need to be here.” 

 

There is a shallow pang of shame in his chest, that Mel and Maggie will see him like this.

 

Weak, feeble, useless. 

 

Their supposed protector fallen.

 

“We are not losing you Harry,” she put the phone back in her pocket,turning to face him. “It’s time the Elders started to listen to us. If they want us to stop this apocalypse, they play by our rules.” 

 

Harry blinks again, his vision clearing momentarily, wanting to remember the way she looks now, in case these few remaining hours are indeed all he has left. How much she has grown, the power she exudes and just how much he wants to fight to see her continue to be able just to see her and the witch she is destined to become. 

  
  



End file.
